Tom Martin: Having company is a hopping good time

Tuesday

About mid-morning on Thanksgiving Day, my toddler son hopped across the kitchen with glee. No, he hadn’t found a stash of candy. We had company. And he loves visitors.

About mid-morning on Thanksgiving Day, my toddler son hopped across the kitchen with glee.
No, he hadn’t found a stash of candy. We had company. And he loves visitors.
The arrival of the pizza guy will send him rocketing to the front door.
My wife and I hadn’t told Jay my sister’s family was coming to spend the night Wednesday because they weren’t sure when they would arrive or how long they would stay. We decided that rather than kick our 2-year-old into high gear prematurely, we’d put a cap on this explosive information.
When Ann, her husband and their four kids began filing through the back door, Jay couldn’t contain himself. He shrieked! And then he zipped over and stood behind my leg and observed the lot of them.
My son is hesitant, at first, with things new or unknown. He ate his first cupcake like he was dismantling a bomb. And he’s so excited when people visit that his carefulness and exuberance collide.
Generally, he squeals at the sight of visitors and then flees from them. He’s so ecstatic that he has to run off some steam.
Eventually, he files back into the room and approaches the newcomers, watching their every move. And then, of course, he warms up to them and wants them to stay until he graduates high school.
My big sister, Carrie, is a bit like crack cocaine for my son. Around her, he spins like a top and becomes irritable when the gyration ends. A couple weeks ago, she came up to watch Jay and his little brother Finn (7 months old) for the afternoon. The night before Carrie arrived, I told Jay she was coming. He didn’t want to wait.
“Carrie is outside,” he told me.
“No. She won’t be here until tomorrow.”
“Today is tomorrow,” he said as if declaring it would make it so.
And he’s the same with his grandpa and grandma. He anticipates their arrival and wants their attention the whole time they are here.
Sometimes his little brother gets too much attention and Jay has to intervene.
I don’t think Jay’s reaction to company is unusual. I can remember, as a child, the excitement of a visit from my aunt Mary, my mom’s half-sister. Younger than mom, Mary seemed hip and we had fun.
We’d sing songs, play games and talk about music. She brought the first eight-track player I ever laid eyes on. Her visits to the farm were like a slice of flavor in the middle of a fast.
But as children grow, some of the polish comes off having company. I guess we start treasuring privacy and developing an aversion to disruptions.
During my grade school years, I remember my uncles and cousins from my dad’s side of the family visiting during Thanksgiving or Christmas.
I didn’t mind seeing them, but they were big, boisterous people and seemed to invade the house. I remember waking up and trudging downstairs to find a house full of big relatives, dressed for the day with little to do but stare at me and make cracks about how I was just now getting up. They’d been up for hours, which somehow put them at an advantage. It was pretty tough to slurp down a bowl of Sugar Pops with a dozen people watching.
And these days I enjoy most company, but I seldom shriek and hop across the kitchen. My joy is muted partly because a visit from anyone means a quick clean of the house, which always deadens the excitement for me. Enthusiasm is not difficult to bridle when you’re brushing the toilet.
Unless, of course, you’re Martha Stewart. Then not only is your toilet smelling like pumpkin spice, but you’re sewing some monogram napkins and building a life-sized tribute to your guests in the back yard.
But, for most us, just getting the dirty socks from the floor to the closet is accomplishment enough. Plus, we adults have schedules.
Having company knocks us off our tracks. And, there’s a responsibility to entertain. Eats, drinks, conversation. It’s easier not to have company.
But as my sister’s family departed on Thanksgiving Day, I realized we’d made some more holiday memories, the kind a little kid never forgets.
Tom Martin is editor of The Register-Mail. Contact him at
tmartin@register-mail.com or call 343-7181 Ext. 250.

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